


A Vacation Without Improvisation

by Allabouttherrelationship



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: #macriley, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allabouttherrelationship/pseuds/Allabouttherrelationship
Summary: A Tumblr request for Mac and Riley to vacation together. Riley having to deal with her growing feelings towards Mac while ensure that he gets the rest and rejuvenation he requires.
Relationships: Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 172





	1. Brain Drain

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: A fellow Tumblr recently make a comment after the conclusion of Season 4, that Mac and Riley were long overdue for a vacation. This story is my agreement with this wise individuals’ assessment. At first, I struggled with location, where would Mac and Riley would actually desire to travel. However, I was inspired by Lucas Till’s recent road trek across the United States and thought for those who had also followed the journey in pictures this might be a fun incorporation of fiction and reality. Let me know if you are enjoying it!

Mac tugs aggressively at the Winchester knot of his slim back tie, not bothering to fully unravel the fabric before slipping it over his head. It gets tossed quietly on the back of his couch. He expertly flips his fingers at the top button that been uncomfortably squeezing his neck in the shirt collar. And he sheds the blazer from his form fitting suit as well. It is like he is trying to, with each article of clothing, remove something more hampering than slices of material. Overall, the freeing and eliminating of clothing does little to aid in his overall state, which is undeniably exhaustion.

He sluggishly allows himself to collapse into the plushness of the couch, tilting his head upward to stare expressionlessly at the popcorn print ceiling.   
They, the entire team, had just returned from DC. He had executed two consecutive days of addressing the powerfully suited with the research and merits of his mother’s work. Striving to educate the influential about the dying planet and the necessity to take immediate action. 

Now, his brain had a numbness which he had never experienced in his life. Not that he can ever feel his mind working but he truly questioned what was happening in his head as he felt void of most of its sensation. It was similar to being encased in mud or quicksand, cold and constricting. With each movement against it pressure increasing and range of motion decreasing. Continuing to fight against the weight causing limbs and torso fatigue, and stinging or tingling as blood flow is restricted. When the uncomfortable prickling ceases there is nothing, not even the registration that arms, legs, body are still attached or functioning. 

Staring at the ill-arranged formations of Spackle above him, he knows that this numbness is really a state of mental exhaustion. He almost laughs as his internal voice automatically begins to Macsplain “brain drain” to himself, just as he would with his co-workers when improvising on a mission. 

The human brain technically an organ, not a muscle. Although not a muscle, its cells do use energy to function. Glucose being the primary source of energy. It gets converted to the organic chemical ademosine triphosphate (ATP). The idea is when the brain works hard, it uses up all the glucose leaving the individual feeling depleted, the lower glucose levels raise ATP, which blocks dopamine, the feel good keeping you motivated chemical. The rate at which glucose is utilize is entirely based upon the task. Automated tasks, like the regular route to work everyday take less energy, but dealing with an ongoing supply of new information, putting energy into every decision over using the executive functioning and causing mental exhaustion. 

He acknowledges that his executive function has been streaming at a near bursting capacity for months. Ever since Codex had come on the scene. He has been processing new information, making new decisions and strategizing new ways to out-maneuver their destructive efforts. He knows that simply in-taking more glucose, essentially snacks and coffee, won’t directly or entirely re-charge his brain. What he really needs is a break from all higher thinking. He reasons this to be improbable and almost laughable given his line of work. His Macsplaning gets interjected by a comforting voice. 

“Hey” he hears Riley’s voice bounce around the room. He hadn’t even registered her arrival home.

“Hey” he replies still staring upwards.

“You were really amazing the past couple days. I’m going to channel my inner Jack and say, I’m really proud of you, Hoss” she adds with a lightened sincerity.

That comment seems to give just enough juice to lower his chin and meet her eyes. They exchange a familiar smile, like a thousand times shared before, which tosses back and forth mutual adoration and respect.

“You hungry? I can order us some Thai?” she offers.

“Not hungry but appreciate the offer. I promised Des to meet for drinks in an hour” he supplied. He considers that this was probably unwise given his level of mental tiredness but it needed to be done. After Codex, bombs dropped, guns pointed, trust questionable, he and Des were in this weird state of limbo, not really together but also not entirely broken up. It merited discussion and with any luck, clarity. 

Riley seemed to look away from him uncomfortably at the mention of Desi’s name. He was confused as to what that was about but lacked the energy to dissect its origins.

He resurrects himself from the couch. A quick shower and change of clothes of necessity. Before moving past Riley he places his hand on her slim shoulder, trails it down the length of her arm to her hand and gives her palm a quick squeeze. “Thanks Riles,” he says with shy smile. She deserves infinitely more from him than that singular syllable word, he needs brain power to uncover the correct time and language to communicate it.

XXX

Riley sits crossed legged on her bed. Her laptop humming before her eyes over her recent search, single bedroom apartments. She groans outwardly at the futility of her search. Repulsive or costly seemed to be the only two categories of results generated by this particular search engine. 

But Mac’s rendezvous with Desi this evening had recapped the unrelenting need to remove herself from his residence before… “before I do something really stupid” she says aloud to her vacant room. She smirks to herself at the usage of Mac’s words. But she that which she is referring too is well above the level of Macgyver improvisation stupidity. Professing her newly realized feelings about Mac, to Mac, would be epicly dumb in a life which was already full previously poor and consequential choices. Yet, the frequency in which this confession almost spontaneously dropped from her lips had become alarming. Like in the minutes witnessing Mac fight to save the planet with his words and intellect, she had to fight to remain squarely in her seat, so all of DC didn’t hear “I love you” between the issues of carbon pollution and man-made erosion. Mac had always impressed and amazed her, every mission, every improvisation, but this was surprisingly more. His presentation and faithfulness towards his family’s work was somehow the most noble act she had ever witnessed. In doing so Mac had innocently managed to increase his area of occupancy that had been carved out specifically for him in her heart. 

In addition, her newly realized feelings for Mac had other unfortunate effects. Recently, witnessing him easily rattle off complex scientific jargon was sexy as hell, causing a flash-over of heat and desire in her mind and body. Listening to at length for two solid days had been sweet torture. Also, in the instances that he innocently touches her, she now had the sense that she may spontaneously combust. Even his casual gesture earlier, exiting the living-room, had long-lasting effects. She continues to rub aggressively at the area between her shoulder and finger-tips. His hands had barely skimmed this area but the heated sensation remained similar to hotness in the formation of a good tan. 

As she scrolls through yet another page of horrible excuses for apartments, she overhears the opening and closing of the front door. She braces herself, muscles in her stomach and back constricting to eavesdrop unintentionally on voices or footsteps indicating Mac and Desi have arrived home together. Or worse, steadying herself for that yucky sensation she gets when she overhears or becomes aware of them being affectionate with one another. Gratefully all she hears are Mac’s footsteps moving about the kitchen. Dropping her laptop from her lap, she ventures out of her room. 

Mac is located standing next to the fridge downing a beer with surprising fortitude. Not his usual methodology for alcohol consumption. Once it is gone, in quick order she notes, he drops the empty on the island, quickly turning to snag his second from the fridge. 

Riley feels her eye brown cock upward, “Planning on getting plastered tonight?” she asks.

He issues a grunt, placing the second long neck to his lips. She idles over, grabbing her own from the fridge, mimicking his behavior. It of course has him pause in his own efforts.

“You weren’t planning on drinking alone were you?” she offers her playful voice.

He chuckles softly. She truly loves the authenticity of that sound and is pleased she can still illicit it from him. 

“Is Desi joining us?” she quires trying to keep her tone as light a possible, instead of dripping with dread.

“Unlikely” he says quietly, “at least not for the foreseeable future.” He pauses then continues “Drinks with her were a disaster, the only heard and agreed upon part of the conversation is that we both are in need of a clear break in our relationship.”

“You broke up?” She says in astonishment, “Again?” As soon as that last part slips out she immediately regrets it, witnessing a flash of woundedness spark across his features. “I’m sorry” she adds quickly voice full of remorse.

“It’s okay Riles, its not like its untrue. Guess I should have learned from the first round huh?" he murmurs. 

She hated hearing the self-reprimand and defeat in his voice. 

“Mac, there was no harm in trying again with Desi. I know that how you hate feeling like you failed at anything, especially relationships. And you always seek to give others a second chance. It’s one of the many parts of you I admire. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out the way you had hoped.” She is sorry, because she recognizes it is another hurt for Mac, another loss, that he has to wade through among the all the rest.

He issues a hearty groan, “Work is going to be a real treat for the next while.”

He was right, it would take extra effort on his part now continue working professionally along side Desi. It had not been easy after the previous breakup. Could he manage it right now? He looks truly worn by Riley’s assessment. Physically yes, she is aware of the added dark circles under his eyes and added crows feet at the their corners and between his brows. But she reasoned that his brain had been working steadily for months, at a level even off the charts for a brain wizard like Mac. No need to add to the list of items he needs to contemplate.

“Hey, do you actually want to keep talk about this?” she quires.

“Not in the least” he responds. 

“Perfect, we will return to your previous approach,” she offers. “Copious amounts of alcohol, plus that Thai food I had suggested earlier?”

“Riles, you are amazing, thank you”

“Whoa, Let’s be clear, it’s not like I’m a gonna cook you the Thai myself” she scoffs brushing away his compliment. 

He locks his eyes to hers in seriousness, and quietly “The thank you was for your ability to continuously know what I need, even when I am clueless to it myself. It appears that is a requirement in my life at present.”

“Always Mac” she answers. She sighs, as the intimacy of these moments just chips away at the exterior walls she had erected around her heart.

XXX

Riley had slept very little through the night, being engulfed in a full worry wrath about how to assist Mac. He was really done by her estimation. He required rejuvenation. Her own method would be a seaweed wrap, facial and pedicure in the local spa but the idea of Mac at a spa was ridiculous. He would likely start informing the staff and guests about the likelihood and rate of bacterial transmission in such a setting rather than using it as an opportunity to rest. A genius idea had arrived near 2 am, as she focused in on his words about her ‘ability to continuously know what he needs”. He was absolutely correct; she knew the exact medicine to prescribe. Convincing Mac maybe a feat, but certainty and determination coursed in her body like an electrical current, he would be able to do little to interrupt its flow. 

“Good morning Sleephead!” Riley boasters a few hours later having let herself into Mac’s bedroom.

It’s now around 6 am. She pleasures slightly that she gets to wake him with that particular phrase, given it has been used by him upon her repeatedly. She can see his grimace as she approaches his bed, and he jokingly shields his face in the crook of his arms. She sits herself on the bed hear his torso, playfully swatting the arm from his face. When it is removed and she can fully see his face she feels a sharp intake of her breath. Sleepy Mac really is one of her favorite visions. His face calm from physical rest, but he sports a silly smile that births butterflies in her stomach. His are eyes deep blue tilde pools and shimmering, while his hair spiked in all directions like it had been dancing all night with his pillow. She itches to card her fingers tips in those blonde locks, so instead grips at her knees with her finger-nails.

“Your up abnormally early,” he comments with surprise in his words “what’s up?”

“Start packing,” she says a firmness in her voice that she knows he has difficulty arguing with. “We are going on vacation.”


	2. "You need a swap, re-code and refurbish"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks that this chapter took so long. I've been busy with writing for another fandom, need to divide my time better. It's short but additional ground work for the overall story. Let me know what you think. Suggestions are also always welcome!

“Start packing,” Riley says with a firmness in her voice that she knows he has difficulty arguing with. “We are going on vacation.”

Mac is positive he has misheard her statement, his eye-brows climb upward on his face in surprise. “Vacation…” he tries out the word on his tongue, rolling it around like it is a foreign language. Indeed the idea seems like an alien notion. 

“Yup, we need to get you packed” Riley affirms. And not waiting for further discussion she jumps off the bed, grabs his duffel from its location in the corner of the room and trolls with it over to his dresser. She squats down to ajar the bottom drawer.

‘She's completely serious’ he thinks. In addition to her declaration and her movements to get him packed, he now notes Riley’s attire. She is wearing her deep violet hiking boots, which upon his first ever viewing he had brashly teased her about. To which she had responded that attire could “be both functional and hip at the same time.” Along with the boots, she is wearing light-weight kakis, which in her current crouched position are being pulled beautifully across her ass, a perfectly placed pocket on each cheek. He is not supposed to notice shit like that, but well, it happens occasionally for him with Riles. Maybe more often than he is comfortable with. She has further adorn a lose fitting men’s shirt, over her signature tank top. Her hair is pulled up off her neck into the haphazard bun at the crown, and her sunglasses are already positioned in her hair for ease of access. 

“Riles,” he says as he finally sits up, feet touching the floor boards, “we can’t go on a vacation.” He hates the reality of that statement, it plainly sucks by his assessment.

“We can and we are” she issues as a retort, as she moves up a couple additional drawers continuing to stuff his clothing into the duffel. Suddenly she abandons her efforts spins to face him and marches over to his position on the bed. She squats yet again in front of his seated position on the bed, and encases both his hand in hers, absolute seriousness and concern resonate in her facial features. 

“Mac, I know you trust me” she says. She is 110% accurate, though such a measurement is completely inaccurate Mac muses. Riley is the individual in his small sphere who he currently trusts whole heartedly and unconditionally, for the simple reason that she has always maintained her faith and trust in him. She had from the moment he had sprung her from prison, without the requirement for it to be earned. But more recently, when all others seemed to question his actions and motives, Riley had simply trusted him and shown up. After he had gone apparently ‘rogue’ in the opinion of most of his coworkers, Riles had arrived at the research facility to load Sheva exactly when it mattered. Even in that moment, she had not stopped to question his plan she just followed his lead. So yeah, she had his complete and unrelenting trust. 

“Yes” he replies, though he notes that it falls completely short of expressing the magnitude to which it is true. 

She nods, continuing with “You commented yesterday that I have the ability to continuously know what you need. You need a break Mac, a real break. Your exhausted, not just physically but I think your mind has finally reached operating capacity. We need to swap out your battery, re-code some of your software, and increase your storage capacity. A full refurbishing and subsequent reboot!”

He smiles broadly at her computer analogy, conceding that it is not exactly wrong. 

“I’ve already notified Matty, she won’t be bothering us. It just going to be you and I, cruising down the open road. No missions and no improvisations.” She adds, now looking at him with hopeful eyes. 

Dam that sounds fucking amazing. He feels his already weakened resolve and sense of duty melting like ice cream on a stifling summer day. And he has always been a sucker for her eyes when she asks for something in this manner. 

“Matty approved this?” he asks skeptically. 

“She was notified” Riley stated again. Same word choice as previous. He shoots her a raised eye-brow with the unspoken question of ‘do I want to know?’ Which of course, Riley completely comprehends, and responds shrugging one shoulder with a sheepish grin. Better to trust her to manage that piece.

“Where are we going?” he asks realizing he has conceded. She must recognize this too, because her smile lights up with satisfaction that she has won. She jumps upwards and he almost expects to see her do a victory dance. She doesn’t. 

“You’ll see” is her response with a flirty smirk. Not the first time she has issued that counter move and not the first time he finds himself responding with an all boy grin.

“Get dressed” she orders, “and I’ll let you finish packing, since I’m guessing due to practical organization of your dresser that I was about to reach your under-ware drawer.” She turns heal to leave his room, his face sporting a slight blush at the thought of Riles combing through his boxer briefs. 

XXX

Riley finishes loading camping gear into the box of Mac’s truck, tents, sleeping bags, cooking gear etc, just as Mac strolls out the front door with his duffel slung over his shoulder. He has mimicked her attire with his hiking boots, cargo pants, layers of t-shirt and open button up and lastly a worn baseball cap over his golden locks. She tries not to think about how they look like the perfect matching couple, ready for a romantic adventure. 

“Am I dressed appropriately for the occasion?” he asks in their usual banter.

She pretends to survey him with a thoughtful stare, tapping a finger to her lip she slowly circles him like a designer would scrutinize her model. 

“I think you are slightly overdressed” she comments from behind him, taking it upon herself to slide his cell phone from his butt pocket. While doing so she grazed the tautness of his ass with the back of her hand resulting in her eyes roll back in her head with glee. He seems to jolt slightly at her unexpected action. Regaining her composure to stand before him again, she says, “this is unnecessary.” She is waving the phone like a fan at his face between her thumb and index finger. 

“Seriously?” he glances at her backpack beside her feet and shoves his chin in its direction. “Your packing your rig” his voice screams ‘no fair’ like a small child. 

“Only for extreme emergencies” she responds. And to keep Matty and Phoenix off their vacation trail she adds in her head. She had been honest with Mac about her “notification” to Phoenix, as opposed to a request and granting of their vacation time by Matty. Matty was yet to respond to her email notification from early this morning. Even if permitted, she was unlikely to appease more than a few days, which would not suffice in this situation. Mac needed time and rest, and she would do what was required to protect both. 

“But I’ll let you keep your Swiss Army knife,” she offer in peace, “only because I don’t want you feeling naked for the whole trip.” Shit, she should refrain from using the word naked in reference to Mac, as a vision of his shirtless heats her belly. She mentally throws chilled water on that fire to continue her conversation.

“But no improvisation Angus Macgyver!” she finishes. 

“First and last naming me, the woman means business” he laughs.

She tosses him his truck keys, which he catches flawlessly one handed. “You drive, Ill navigate” she instructs.

He unfolds the sunglasses that had been tucked into the front of his t-shirt and slides them over his eyes, trying to present as serious but epically failing. “Let’s do this” he responds, but the grin continues it’s growth. She scrambles into the passengers’ seat, pleased that not having even left the driveway he already seems have reacquired a small spark of life. If she can keep this trend, Mac will undoubtedly be his energetic and stunning self by its completion. She just prays that in him returning to his former glory doesn’t result in her own needless death via lust filled heart-attack or confession consequenced heartbreak.


	3. Sweet Dream

The drive down Route 40 from LA towards Los Vegas was entertaining. Riley utilizes her Spotify app to propel 70’s and 80’s pump up jam through the speakers of Mac’s truck. Mac seem to joyously belt out incorrect words, bounce his head in clumsy rhythm and utilize the steering wheel as a drum kit. They purchased food truck burgers and strawberry milk shakes at a rest area. Typically a risky move, but the product turned out to be delicious. Mac seemed to devour the shake like a man without water residing in the desert. She reasoned that if there had been any scientific grounding in osmosis he might have dumped the shake on his own head to fully take in its delightful flavor. She mused that the simple pleasures of life, good music, comfort food, were of recent, horribly absent for him. They required reintroduction and reclaiming, she planned on assisting in this process at every turn of the road. 

As they pass the wooden carved sign that says San Bernardine County, Mac’s face, although hidden behind his sunnies, seems to illuminate like the plugging in of a Christmas tree. 

“No way?” he says with disbelief and boy-like excitement. “Are we headed to the Majove Desert?” 

Riley groans outwardly and states with slight complaint, “It was supposed to the first of many surprises on this trip. Guess I’m going to have to be the one to drive and blindfold you for the next leg if I’m going to keep you in suspense.”

Mac turns his gaze from the road to her , “the first of many?” he asks with a mocking innocence. 

Now she laughs lightly, “only if you behave” she teases. She regrets the comment immediately as her mind darts to Mac misbehaving, and her palm twitches with the thought of smacking his ass as a sweet punishment. ‘Erect your mind from the dirt, Davis’ she scolds herself under her breath.

“What was that?” Mac asks in reference to her murmur.

“So Majove Desert, have you been?” she asks desperate to ignore his question.

She is positive that he has caught the redirection, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he returns to his earlier brightly colored facial expression, “Never, but has been on my bucket list for years…”

Her own grin grows organically, conscious of the next inevitable direction of the conversation with a silent enchantment, as he launches into an eloquent Macpslain. 

Mac continues, “… The Mojave Desert is internationally known as a place to conduct scientific research on desert ecosystems. This was recognized in the California Desert Protection Act, creating the Mojave National Preserve. The idea is to retain and enhance opportunities for scientific research in an undisturbed ecosystem.” 

She actually is aware of this particular fact, it was a reason for selecting this location as the start of their voyage, but damm if the information doesn’t sound first-class dropping from Mac’s tongue. 

“Well the entrance is about an hour away, will set up camp for the night, explore tomorrow?” she offers.

“I like the way you plan Riles” Mac responds, sounding like he is gushing with pride.

And she likes the way her pet name sounds from his lips, warm like salted caramel on a freshly fried beignet, which simultaneously offers a common comfort and promise of tasting ecstasy.

XXX

Upon arrival in the desert, Riley allows Mac to choose the location to set up camp. Which he does with the earnest and fortitude which he applies to everything else. Jumping out of the truck in a few locations or sites to survey the land and surrounding area until he is completely satisfied with his choice. When he issues her the signal that a both functionality and paradise have been located under his boots, she ambles from the vehicle to welcome their surroundings. 

Conducting her body in a full 360 degree circle, she concedes that Mac has indeed selected the most beautiful location in the 1.6 million acre park. In one direction the sand dunes stretch out in peaked rows, climbing up and down like the notes on sheet music. This seems to ease into a vast carpet of spring wildflowers in subtle greens, whites and purples. Joshua trees with their irregular formation of limbs dot the area. Each is somewhat gangly and even hairy yet their individual uniqueness reminder her those trees depicted in Dr. Seuss stories as a child. But it is the mountains, that have her breath trapped in the upper region of her chest. Sharpe gagged peaks reach up to attempt to touch the setting sun, which has highlighted lukewarm tones of orange and pink upon the tendrils of clouds. She is aware that many of those mountains are perforated with long-abandoned mines or rock walled military posts, the unfortunate damages of mankind. Yet they present to her as untouchable, they are solid, un-moving, constant and even dependable. Overall, the present location provides a serenity and solitude which she believes will be perfect for the goals associated to this vacation. 

She now becomes aware that Mac has taken standing position beside her. They position together, motionless, silent for minutes, like they are both believe speaking will somehow diminish the view. Riley seeks a sideways glance to Mac’s face, surprised to note that he has actually closed his eyes. The evidence of physical tiredness is still present, possibly permanent crows’ feet and dark circles, yet his features seem to be in a peaceful state. ‘This is truly what he needs’ her inner voice affirms. She decides to step back slowly and quietly leaving him take in what he necessitates, while she moves to begin unpacking the truck. 

She pulls items from the box, placing them in various and logical locations on the ground. Mac joins her within minutes, and they work together expertly in tandem. Perhaps its years of missions together, knowing one another to the point of anticipation or intuition taking control but the work is both silent and effortless. 

The quiet is only broken by Riley when they begin setting up their respective tents, and “SHIT” expels from her mouth into the chilling desert air. Mac pops his head up from his crouched position of nailing in his tent peg. 

“What?” he asks.

“That’s it,” she expels in huffs “Bozer no longer gets to use my stuff!”

Mac straightens upwards and saunters to Riley’s location, “Why…” he asks tentatively but with a glimmer of experience suggesting that he knows what is coming next.

“I lent him my tent for his getaway with Leanna, it seems that the tent polls neglected to get repacked in with the rest of the tent” she explains.

Mac appears to survey the fabric presently pooled on the desert floor. He then starts glancing around the campsite with darting eyes and a concentrated facial expression. She knows this behavior well. He starts to speak, “Well we could imp…”

Before he had started the sentence, she had already marched towards him closing their respective distance. Now as the words spout from his lips, she presses own hand over his mouth to cover his speech. 

“Don’t say it” she says in complete earnest, “it is not happening, I will not let it happen.”

His left eye-brow ticks up with extreme shock. She drops her hand, it irritatingly remains tingling due to the experience of its previous location. “Mac, you are on vacation” she says with a soft insistent voice, “You do not need to improvise anything”. 

He opens his mouth again to speak, but again she knows him well. It will be oversimplified or downplaying comment about its ease despite that it will require him to engage his executive functioning, which she is trying to keep from using. So, she with additional force in her tone orders, “No!”

He lifts his palms to his shoulders facing out to her like a show of surrender.

“Guess I’ll get a good view of the stars tonight” she comments, indicating her plan to sleep outside near the fire.

“You could sleep with me,” Mac supplies as a counter offer.

Riley is positive that the flush creeping from her chest to her forehead could presently be seen from space. She doesn’t respond audibly because every sentence reeks of inappropriateness, far from what he is actually proposing. The voices chant inwardly, ‘Yes pleassseeeee!’ ‘Can we go to bed now?’ ‘Sleep is a loose term correct, you actually mean slow, steamy, teasing sex right?’

These thoughts are interrupted by Mac’s voice, “Come on Riles, it’s a 4 man tent, plenty of room. We have shared quatres before. I promise to be a complete gentleman.” The last part is a completely unnecessary statement, him being a gentleman is not of question. It’s her unladylike thoughts that resolve to get her in deep shit in this situation. 

“Besides what if the weather changes, you get caught out in the elements, like wind and rain, a dry tent is a much better option,” he says it, but it sound to her like he is dangling candy in front of the small child. 

She tilts her head up to the sky like she attempting to map the weather patterns, but she is really searching for some sort of divine intervention. Nothing. The sky just seems to continue to darken like on a dimmer switch, reminding her that she is on a clock to make a decision. ‘This is a bad idea, a horrible idea!’ she thinks. Not that he is aware of or comprehending that, really, he obviously has not clue. His view of their relationship is strictly professional and platonic.

She finds herself dumbly saying, “Just for this stop on our travels. We will stop in somewhere on route to our next destination and I’ll purchase another tent”. It’s a promise aloud, but mostly to herself, ‘don’t get used to this idea Davis, it is VERY temporary’.

Mac’s smile presents as pleased at her submission. He immediately sets back to work erecting what has now become ‘their tent’. She assists, therma-rests, sleeping bags and duffles arranged accordingly. Once completed Mac collects and sets stones in closed circle for a fire-pit, and locates kindling and discarded branches for fuel. He lights the fire with the ease of a boy scout, and sits comfortably in the dirt edging it to life with a poking stick.

Riley positions standing upright near the golden flame extending out her palms to the heat.

“Grab a patch a dirt” Mac says, motioning to her to sit down. 

She shakes her head signally no, “Actually think I’m going to turn in, tired… from all the travel.” It’s a flimsy lie, but she reasons that if she can get in the tent and asleep before Mac enters, she might actually have a chance at not jumping his bones. 

He frowns, a splash of disappointment in his expressive eyes. ‘This is for the betterment of both of us’ she states inwardly. 

Finally, he seems to accept her lame reason for departure with the words, “Okay Riles, sweet dreams.”

“You too Mac,” she responds softly, then turns quickly to duck into expanse of what is to be ‘their’ short-term bedroom. 

XXX

Mac relishes his current state, the ideal brew of sleepiness and emerging consciousness. The place when his limbs tingle with a resting weightiness. His eyes remain closed but take in a faint warming glow from the morning light. And his ears hummmm in satisfaction to the stillness and quiet. It is truly a state of bliss he has recently missed. Seeming to add to it this morning, is an agreeable refined aroma of citrus and vanilla. He nuzzles towards the smell in an effort to take it in fully, being met with the sweeping of lush locks against his face. His eye lids fluster open to register glossy tendrils of deep black and violet. He pulls his head backwards to orientate himself, allowing the rest of his sleepy body to remain stationary. He slowly takes stock of his body position, to realize that he is snuggled perfectly and enjoyably up to another warm form, his arm laid comfortably across a torso, the bottom of his sleeping bag intertwined with anothers like a couple’s legs entangled in bed. He hears a soft murmur of pleasure from the form of which he is currently sharing this delightful embrace, and instinctively registers the voice. It startles him to full awareness, as “Shit” quietly escapes from his mouth. He has been pleasurably cuddling with a presently sleeping Riley Davis. 

He raises his arm in slow progression, like ones’ movements in the presence of a sleeping bear. Then he scoots himself backwards to put a respectable distance between their bodies. Riles unconscious being seems to have other plans, as seconds after he has separated them she rolls his direction, closing the ground that he had just made. She is now facing him, their faces a breath apart. He remains frozen, holding his inhalation to determine if she will now wake, from either the presence or absence of his previous fondling. He breaths out quietly as she seems to remain in her resting state. 

Nowhere further to escape, Mac’s focus falls on Riley’s face and features. Wisps of dark hair have fled from her messy bun to gracefully caress her face. Her forehead and brow are smooth, colored with olive skin which he trusts is likely feels like satin. Her lashes appear extraordinarily long, like butterfly wings resting upon her cheeks. Her nose gives the impression it had been craved perfectly from marble, slim and strong. And her mouth, well her mouth is ample, and moist despite the dry desert air. He judges her mouth to be expertly formed, squarely between sweet and sinful. 

Overall, she looks… alluring. And she looks… tempting? ‘Stop!’ he practically yells at himself. Where is this coming from? Maybe this is a case of post break up rebound hormones? He berates himself, there is no scientific evidence to support ‘rebound hormones’. Perhaps he just completely desperate not to be alone, both physically and emotionally and…? And what? 

Whatever the reason he really needs to stop looking, stop studying, honestly stop groping her with his eyes. As he continues to chastise himself regarding his apparent ogling, he watches with awe as Riley’s mouth gapes slightly, pushing out ‘Mac’, his name from her lips, like it is a groan of pleasure. 

He feels his eyes widen like a predator trying to take in its surroundings. ‘What the hell was that?’ his internal voice questioned with shock. ‘She is dreaming… about me?’ That was not the tone of ‘Mac can you fix the dishwasher? or ‘Macccc… you really can’t cook!’ He was sure that particular uttering was full of both lust and desire. That knowledge immediately causes a rosy blush to touch his cheeks. He reasons that reaction is completely normal in terms of slight embarrassment to be the object of anyones’ affections. But he then registers something else, deep in the depth of his stomach. It’s like a small stone being dropped into a pond, the echoing soft plop shadowed by a delicate splash over. And then the formation of the first slow perfectly shaped ripple circulating out through the body from its origin. The first wave he names as intrigue, the second being, interest. He is stunned at the third metaphorical ripple, a feeling of enticement, which is chased down by urge and lastly fans outward to want. Now that is not normal, at least not in reference to thoughts of Riley. And he should undeniably obliterate the formation of thought pattern, yet the ripples grow to touch every expanse, segment, sector of his body and mind. 

He demands his brain to rationalize his current predicament with science. Firstly, she is dreaming, dreams reflect a person’s waking states, concerns, worries, even desires. There is some science that indicates that an individual who desires someone who is considered “off limits” may experience sexualized dream about that person because it’s the brain’s way of experimenting with the idea without actually following through with it. 

It is possible that she experiences some level of attraction towards him, but that she was choosing to ignore as she considers him to be untouchable. Actually, he had technically been ‘off the market’ until yesterday when his relationship with Desi flamed out like scratch paper. Regardless there was no need to complicate the perfection of his and Riley’s current relationship, Right? That was probably her logic. Their relationship was precision, mutual perception, admiration, respect, instinct and devotion. It weathered years and had recently sustained him through the attempted destruction by Codex and loss or shortfalls of his family. 

He would in all honesty name Riley as “his person”, the individual he trusts most in the entirety of the world. He realizes that the “my person” label often implies a sort of romantic relationship but in all honesty Nikki, Nasha, Desi, really any other woman had been worthy of this title, only Riles. He could not risk losing “his person” to some currently unexplained thoughts of attraction or lust. 

Yet a greedy and corrupt voice quietly queries, ‘what if you could have all of that and be permitted to kiss that sweet mouth while she moans your name?’ He realizes again that he is mere inches from that juice mouth right now, he could easily arise her from her suggestive dream to a pleasing reality. 

He thankfully doesn’t have to consider or agonize over that question or proposed action any further, as Riley begins to stir to consciousness. 

Her eyes leisurely open to catch his and a casual smile methodically forms to her lips. She asks with innocence in her voice “Where’s my morning greeting?”

He feels minor panic that she has somehow become aware of wicked voices in his head, but in a measured tone manages to ask, “Morning greeting?”

“Good morning sleepyhead?” she responds, attempting to mimic his typical tone and tempo.

He laughs heartfelt and echos in an affectionate voice “Good morning sleepyhead!”

Her smile grows exponentially, “Perfect!” she responds happily.

‘Ya’, he thinks, ‘it is perfect, just be happy with perfect.’ 

XXX


	4. I've got you

After a quick breakfast, Riles outlines the plan to hike towards the mountains to explore the Mitchell Caverns. They are a limestone solution cave formed when ground water with high carbonic acid content ate into the surrounding sedimentary limestone. The cave formations formed were from calcium carbonate left by dripping mineral water. 

The trek to and from the caved area is likely to take the majority of the day, so they fill day packs accordingly and button down their campground for their absence.   
Mac allows Riley to take the lead, she utilizes her GPS which she is more than capable of interpreting. Only an hour in he is admitting to himself that it is pleasant, not being the individual responsible for managing the route or ensuring the destination is reached. 

The discussion during the hike is light and at times boisterous as Riley has requested ‘story time’. Its focus around what she playfully refers to as “Mac and Boz’s Excellent Adventures.” It’s an obvious reference the infamous duo ‘Bill and Ted’, although time travel was not part of their shenanigans. He relays the stories from their innocent and awkward childhood heartfeltly, with more than enough accounts to cover the hours past and ahead. It’s a good reminder the happier times in as a kid, where not everything was impacted by the absence of his parents. 

They have now commenced a zigzagging through tall rock constructions, wind and water having eroded the columns to present as pillars and marble looking walls you might find in a fancy museum. 

“Wait,” she halts in her trek, “I recognize this rock formation.” She places her hand on an adjacent wall of smooth limestone. “I’m pretty sure this is where NASA tested the LEMUR.”

Mac instantly becomes rooted in his existing location, gawking at her, his mouth outwardly hinged ajar. 

“The “LEMUR”… Limbed Excursion Mechanical Utility Robot, a rock-climbing robot, used it on Mars…” she trails off. She is frowning, like in disbelief that he is uninformed of this specific fact. Of course, he is apprised, inventions developed by NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory are one of his beloved interests. What he is straining against and has him immobile is the flashover that exploded in his body upon his comprehension that SHE seems aware and interested in the topic.   
He manages to close his mouth, and open it again, but words flunk to accumulate. Open close, open close, he infers that his mouth probably resembles that of a wooden marinette, the mechanical and dull click of the jaw the only registered sound if puppeteer were to remain muted. 

Riley continues with “it was originally inspired by the sticky properties of gecko feet, to allow the LEMUR to anchor itself to a vertical surface. The feet contained hundreds of steel hooks embedded in toe-like cartridges which when contact the surface are pulled upward to grip the rock…

‘Holy shit’, she is presently Macsplaining the adhesive properties of the LEMUR. Does he sound like this when he launches into explanation on a mission? Doubtful, often people, predominantly and recently Desi, just appeared jaded or exasperated at his utterances. And his voice doesn’t have that suggestion of sultry resonance his body is registering in her words, at least not as he perceives it in his own head. 

“… it not unlike the mechanics of a rock climber’s finger while grabbing a climbing hold,” she finishes.

And not only does she spout the information fluently but she has explained the mechanics precisely… he naturally wants to moan out loud. But it’s degree and thickness would probably alarm wild-life within a 100 meters radius.

He overheard and enveloped every glorious word with fervent interest. His riveted attention is astounding given that the blood from his brain is now pooling in a tepid mess below his belt. He has formerly been spectator to Riley voice explanation about computers and software with a confidence and language that even he has on instance had strain tracking. But this… this is something else entirely. This is undisputedly the sexiest thing he has ever heard from a woman’s mouth. And it’s now forevermore engraved in his memory as tumbling from Riley’s lips. 

“Your humoring me, aren’t you?” she asks with a joke in her voice. “I’m sure you know all about the LEMUR, you didn’t really need an explanation from me.”

Yup he knew, but temptation to play dumb and request that she explain it again is strong. On second thought, he might not survive a second round. 

He finally frames auditable words, well semi-auditable. “Er, Umm, yeah, I mean… I follow just about anything related to NASA, especial work from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Their inventions are inspiring. I just didn’t know it was an interest of yours?”

“What? I can’t take interest in space related inventions?” she asks with a teasing voice. “Out of the two of us, which one has actually hacked into NASA?”

He laughs boisterously, “Point proven and accepted,” he verbally concedes. “Well if you want to further discuss space related inventions, I am a willing participant,” he offers. He shouldn’t offer, not without ensuring his close proximity to a cold shower, a frigid lake, actually wiser would be in vicinity to icy glacier flows in the Arctic Ocean. Fortunately, she refuses at this time, which has him depressing a puff of air ignorantly blocked in his throat.

“I’ll raincheck that offer. My GPS has us approaching the caves,” she points ahead. She resumes the lead, while he heaves back a mouthful of luke-warm water from his canteen, which affords diminutive reprieve to squelch the inferno still blazing within. 

XXX

As they are stepping up to cavern entrance, Mac gets this feeling that he is about to step into another world entirely. It has now been fashioned for tourism, paved pathways, strategically placed LED lights and stairs but it still may be one of the oldest cave systems in the world.

Mac thinks about the formation of it starting 300 million years ago, when warm shallow sea covered the area, and tiny shells and corals piled up to create limestone layers. Between earth movement and wet and dry periods, the caverns were created and drip, drip, drips over those millions of years carrying calcified water created stalactites from above to the stalagmites below. He looks around in awe as the structures before him feel like the drips of molten wax. Some even touch together like outstretched hands grasping at each other from the ceiling and floor to form large columns. Moths and birds flutter overhead in twilight zones, where daylight has penetrated. In dark zones lit by tiny LEDs, big-eared bats clinging to walls or fly silently from shadow to crevice.

They spend a few hours wandering in a silent wonder. There seems no need for commentary or explanation between them, there is just this comfortable appreciation they both seem to have for the magnificence they get to witness. The only words exchanged are in an agreement to set back to camp as their packed snack diminish   
in their backpacks. Even the trek back to camp is a serene silence, allowing Mac’s thoughts to internally voyage to a contemplative place of this place in connection to his mother.

Arriving back to their campsite, dinner is made, mercilessly devoured and dishes are deligently scrubbed up. Mac finds himself laying on his back near the fire, searching the sky for stars. Riley has been strumming at her computer for the past hour, he has no desire to inquire about what she is presently working on. For once in his life, if it is Phoenix related, he okay with being uninformed. He overhears Riley close up her rig.

“You’ve been quiet, lost in the mind of Angus Macgyver?” Riley says in a tender teasing voice. 

“Sort of,” he says in truth, “honestly, I was thinking about my mother.”

Riley doesn’t respond with words. Instead she rises from her seated position and moves around him and the roaring fire pit to lower herself to dirt beside him. She has taken similar to position to his own, staring upwards at the balls of fire, burning millions of miles away. She reaches across the short space between them to tug gently at his hand, which he offers no resistance. He is mildly surprised at the manner in which she interlaces their fingers, forcing their hands to create this small pocket of heated air between their palms. It’s supportive and comfortable, but he also registers tiny sparks that seem to jump between the space. He is sure that if he raised their hands to observe the phenomena, the blue and white jagged arcs would be visible, just like the static observed between separated bed sheets on a dry day. He refrains from giving into that curiosity or attempting to determine the origins of such an electrical charge for his thoughts to continue their previous trajectory. 

“I have a lot of gaps when it comes to memories or comprehension of my mother, but I think she would have loved this place. Gwen too,” he can hear a touch of melancholy in his words. 

“It’s okay”, she says, thoughtfulness in her voice, “to mourn missed opportunities.”

She is right, that is likely the reason for the sadness creeping into his tone. “My few memories of her are as a young kid, typical mom stuff. The way she would lift me onto the counter to watch her cook, gently bandage up a scraped knee, or stroke my hair as I was falling asleep. After she died, and as I grew up, it was really only then that I learned she was a scientist." 

“I mean I’ve read and comprehended her work, to the extent that I can deliver it to a room full of unknowing politicians but I would have loved the opportunity to…” he trails off.

“To sit for hours, hypothesizing, debating, problem solving the issues of the world together?” Riley finishes his sentence. 

“Yes” he agrees quietly. “But more than that, I mean, it’s sort of silly, but I could totally envision this being a place we would have vacationed, you know as a family. You know with both my parents, maybe Gwen too. I could see them, mom and Gwen, appreciating the merits of the location, being aesthetically beautiful, a true representation of the raw earth and a place to educate and form a young mind. 

“When we were in that cave today, I had this thought of her launching into her own form of Macsplaining, like maybe it’s a genetic trait or something. It would be about the formation of the stalactites and stalagmites but in some fashion intertwined with elaborate game of hide and seek. I’m sure she would have done stuff like that, you know, making the learning enjoyable because of her own passion. Maybe Gwen too.”

Riley rolls to her head to her side to face him, he finds himself mimicking her actions. Her deep green eyes capture the firelight seemly diving inward to connect to his heart in thoughtful compassion. He knows she understands, better than anyone else because her childhood was a riddled with similar vacant experiences. 

It’s the really the first time he has allowed himself to consider or voice these thoughts, internally or aloud. Being enveloped in that loss of something he never really experienced provides a piercing throbbing in his chest, and a welling of wetness to his eyes. He registers a single heated droplet move from the corner of his eyes down the side of his face. Riley unclasps his hand to palm his cheek, with her thumb gently rubbing the moisture back into his face like she attempting to gather and save the expelled sentiments on his behalf. 

He can feel himself searching her eyes, as he scanned the sky, searching for some meaning of life like explanation as to why he was unlucky enough to miss those moments. Of course, he comes up empty on that front but her face does offer a fierce and familiar assurance which he distinguishes and treasures as ‘I got you’. Words promised to one another countless times in their relationship. 

He involuntarily bows his head her direction, allowing his eye lids to lapse closed, and like magnetism she does the same so their foreheads are pressed together. He registers that there are mire inches between their noses and mouths, has her warm breath fans his face in the cooling desert air. It probably looks intimate, it is intimate but for Mac it a neediness for steadiness, grounding, even a recharging of sorts. He swears that he can feel that energy flow freely from her to him, a deep soothing current of… a promise or hope for a better future? He is fully uncertain, but right this minute, foreheads fused together, this is the only place he needs and wants to be.


	5. Leave it in the dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canadian Thanksgiving. Most thankful for my readers. For the comments and encouragement that you give me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Riley wakes early, too damm early, to the morning sun. The light and warmth screaming to ‘get up’ while penetrating into their shared tent. She looks sideways to Mac, who is astoundedly still sleeping. He looks serenely peaceful in his current state. His brow is stress-free, without his thinking or problem solving lines. His eyes lightly closed, his lashes softly kissing the tops of his cheeks. His lips are slightly parted and she can observe the steady and tranquil intake and expelling of breath between his nose and mouth. His features almost angelic, if a man can actually be described in that manner.

Not like last night, the wistful, longing, and downhearted look which had become overtaken with grief and loss. Her heart still twists painfully recalling the tear that slipped from his eye while he shared his yearning for the missed opportunities with his mother and aunt. Logically she knows this healthy to share those feelings, especially for a man like Mac, who tends to be stuck in his head, or stuff that shit because he is too busy caring for everyone else. But she felt the painful path of that tear like it had been her own.

Riley slips from the tent as quietly as possible, pleased when Mac doesn’t even stir at her exit. She gets to boiling water for coffee on the camp stove. While awaiting the morning brew, she digs out her rig and pushes the power button for it to whirl to life. Her first order of business is to check to see if Maddy responded to her email. The one in which she had ‘informed’ Maddy of their immediate vacation. Sure enough there is a short and curt response. Riley can practically hear Maddy’s voice booming out in her printed words.

“It would be nice if you people would understand the chain of command in this organization! You are supposed to request leave and have it approved before going awol.  
That said, Blondie is definitely due for a break. I can give you a couple days. Then need your ass’s back at Phoenix. The world isn’t going to save its-self.   
Maddy (Your Boss)”

“A couple days’… apologies Maddy, that is not going to cut it” she says aloud to the desert. Mac needs infinitely more than a weekend, where one barely sheds away ideas and worries of work only to have to start thinking about picking it up again for their return. Riley checks the date stamp on Maddy’s response. It’s the same day that she sent her original correspondence. So really, they are already encroaching on the tail end of what Maddy had mercifully consented to in terms of approved leave. Riley performs a swift and silent entry into the Phoenix system, using her own personal backdoor. She scans for few minutes the work of fellow tech specialists, checking to determine if Maddy has yet to issue any orders to determine her and Mac’s immediate location. She finds nothing. But it will come, Maddy has the patience of a… humm nothing appropriate comes to mind. Maddy really has no patience at all. 

But Riley is already prepared for Maddy’s orders. She is jamming signals from her rig, phone, of course, using untraceable charge and credit information. In addition, exercising some of her finest ‘hackware’ to disguise the plates on Mac’s truck to change the details and registration on a daily basis. 

She is protecting this time for Mac, no matter the consequence or cost. 

Even with all those precautions, Riley reasons that too long in one location is likely to get them “caught” and hauled back to an unpleasant reality. They should pack up camp and continue this road trip. She begins to scan the internet following their next stretch of highway. She knows that Mac likely believes that she has this entire journey planned, but in actuality their destinations are as spontaneous at the vacation its self. She is improvising, of sorts. But damm, if she is going to let him in on that little detail given her not so subtle attempts to keep him from engaging in particular action. 

She smiles broadly as her search reveals the perfect activity and destination for the day. 

XXX

Riley insists on driving to their next destination. And further insists that Mac close his eyes in the passengers’ seat when they are 10 minutes out from the surprise. He does so with a serene and laidback smile itching at the corners of his mouth.

She can’t help stealing side glances at his face between her attention to the road. 

When she has pulled into the parking lot and parked perfectly, she cuts the engine.

“Okay Mac, open up” excitement bubbling from her words. 

Mac’s eyes snap open without haste, then dish to the size of Chicago pizza pans with joy. 

“Hell yes” he practically shouts. 

Riley looks with him out the front windshield. The worn sign on the small building reads, “Mario’s Sand Buggies”. Beside the building are rows of dune buggies, with various carrying capacities lined up like a child places his favorite Hot Wheels in seamlessly executed rows. Behind them there are dunes of sand which slope like soft mounds of brown sugar. It is set against the flawless sky blue which seems to stretch onward and upward like the internal curve of a snow globe. 

“Mario’s Sand Buggies!” Mac reads aloud with a chuckle.

“I know its epically perfect. Might as well have been Mario Kart” she adds referring to one of their favorite together time activities. 

“Well let’s see if I can kick your ass at this too!” he says playfully. 

She scoffs “ You have NEVER beat me at Mario Kart Macgyver, what makes you think this will be any different?”

“Well see!” he says friskily. That instantly ignites a heated tension between her legs. Shit! How does that happen so fast, at such short and innocent words? 

She doesn’t respond just provides a likely shacky smile and ambles from his truck.

XXX

They rent their vehicles in quick order and get a briefing from the employee about the dune area and vehicles themselves.

They are provided with flashy tinted goggles to keep sand from intruding into their eyes and dim against the brightness of the sun. Once they get into their individual buggies and roar up the engines, Mac looks over at Riley with a wicked grin. It’s all challenge and friendly competition. It’s familiar, a best friend kinda familiar. 

She holds up three fingers in a count down he seems to recognize. He revels the engine in understanding, she drops the fingers in slow progression, mouthing above the echo of their engine, 3…2…1…GO!

She firmly grips the wheel and stomps heavily on the gas, as they peel away, sand spouting behind their tires like the arch of water from a sprinkler. Riley has skills, not just driving carts in video games, she has had years now behind the wheel dogging flying bullets or racing traffic against some ticking clock. The handling of the buggy and surface of the terrain are different but her instincts remain the same. 

She climbs the first modest dune, joy building as the buggy picks up speed on the decline. The second is larger and even more exhilarating due to its steepness and rate of decent. At the precipice of the third she feels the tires raise from the sand. Her stomach does an adrenaline-charged drop like that on the decent of a roller-coaster. She laughs out loud and throws her head backwards at the fun. 

Mac is now racing beside her in his cart. She glances over, catching his expression. She can’t quiet fasten to his eyes due to the reflection of his goggles but the grin on his face is wide with the same elation. So widespread and enormous that she is positive that he is eating mouthfuls of sand. He doesn’t seem to care in the least. He truly looks happy, actually overjoyed. God, it is sooooo good to see that again. How deeply she wants that for him, with every atom of her body and being. It’s what he deserves, for all the goodness that he does and is. 

They continue on across the desert, seemingly just the two of them, weaving together, pleasurably giving and taking the lead. It like some instinctual synchronized interpretive dance. Leaving gentle tire treads behind them as evidence of their inseparability. 

Just as they are ripping across a flatter expanse, Mac’s buggy leading the way, Riley hears a inconsistency in the grumble of her motor. It is shortly followed by its rumble completely silencing, and her speed plunging to a plodding stop. 

Mac must sense the absence of her trailing, as she observes him abruptly turn, speeding back to her location. She has already exited her buddy and is surveying the engine. Arriving to her location, he cuts his own engine and ambles from his buggy, a portrait of determination on his face. She shakes her head in a state of awe. Really, he can’t help himself can he? Always with the automatic instinct to problem solve and improvise. 

“Sit your fine ass back down Angus” she says with a finger pointed in his direction. She tints pink as soon as comment purges from her lips. The “fine ass” part was not really necessary, nor was the need to use his first name. She has done it on only a few occasions since knowing him, because of its intimate and personal nature. But holy shit if that entire sentence didn’t sound like heated poetry ringing between her ears. 

He simultaneously raises a brow and smirks at her but follows her direction. He casually leans against the roll bar of the buggy crossing his long legs at the ankle and folding his arms. She can appreciate a man who orders, would he be that compliant between the sheets? Stop Davis! She yells internally.

She grinds her focuses again on to the engine, the problem appears to be a lose connection to the battery. 

“But I will borrow your swiss army knife…” she says still fixed on the battery but holding out her hand expectedly. When it remains vacant, she looks up to meet his face. He remains smirking, now with a little more sass, while twirling his knife between his fingers.

“Am I allowed to move my fine ass to hand this to you?” he asks. His voice holds a teasing tone, but also a sultry resonance. She feels herself blink repeatedly in disbelief, is he flirting with me? No, likely just a projection of her own desire. Despite this reasoning the previous soft tint has now morphed into the complexion and uncomfortable hotness of a recent sunburn. 

“Just… just toss it to me?” she squeaks out. He does so immediately, and despite the clumsy nature of her words her reflexes have her snagging it perfectly mid-air.  
She sets to work tightening the screw holding the wire connection to the battery. While doing so she catches a reflection of him in the metal of her buggy.   
He is staring, his eyes very clearly locked on her ass. Her skins tingles with awareness. A light sheen of sweat begins to transpire on every inch of her body as the recollection of his flirty response and now searing gaze. It heats her core. She attempts to take deep breaths but the inhale keeps getting caught in the back of her throat, causing a dizzying response due to decreasing amount of oxygen. 

She finishes the fix and moves to attempt to start the engine of her buggy. It purrs like a cat immediately. She shuts it down again, grabbing her water bottle from her bag she takes a greedy gulp. The desert sun is hot but its not responsible for her elevated temperature, its all because of Mac. 

“Nicely done” Mac says, his voice smooth. There is pride in his eyes, but it is mixed with a hungry craving. Her internal temperature spikes to the core of the sun. Hot, bothered and in need of immediate lowering she snaps closed her eyes, tips her head upward and dumps the remaining contents of her liquid like a flash flood upon her face. She focuses on the droplets soaking and traveling in speedy paths down her skin. It offers the tiniest of relief. Finally, with a minute level of composure she opens her eyes to look again towards Mac. 

His is no longer casually leant against the buggy, his body is at full attention and appreciation. The previous hungry look in his eyes is now ravenous, eyes blown and dark, nostrils flaring, tongue darting over his lips with an insatiable anticipation. Riley is not an idiot, she knows when a man is attracted to her, but this… this is Mac. He can’t be. Wouldn’t be. He has never… never looked at her like this, with this want so plainly visible. 

If his heated stare was not enough of an indication, his next word confirmed her suspicion. “Riles?” he chokes out with hoarseness. It’s comes out like a question, like he too he surprised by his response. But it is also like a plea, like she alone has the ability to fulfill a long time craving that he has just finally identified.   
They are a mire feet from one another in the sand. Riley knows in a few quick steps she could jump into Mac’s arms, straddle his hips, fist his hair and crush his mouth to hers. It would be hot, dirty, and delicious. 

She curses herself inwardly. Regardless of the desire resonating in her body and on in his face, her jumping to his bones is the very last thing that Mac needs. It will complicate their relationship. He has experienced enough in terms of convolutions and messy relationships. He needs it to remain simple. He needs a travel companion, a guide to recovery, a true friend. It’s not what she want, maybe not what he wants, but he trusts her with what he needs. 

“We… we need to get the buggy’s back” she responds. She needs to put a stop or some distance between her Mac and her current thoughts. She quickly jumps back into her vehicle. In her peripheral Mac nods, either to her or himself. He does similarly in terms of getting back into his vehicle. She slams her foot into the gas pedal, tearing at the sand, vowing to leave what just happened there firmly behind them in the dust.


	6. “But what if it’s what I want?”

The drive on Route 40 from Mario’s sand buggy’s to Flagstaff, Arizona, the apparent location of their next stop, was silent, except for the consistent soundtrack of 80’s hits. Mac fully contributes to the conversational quiet by submitting to a game of possum in the passengers’ seat. 

His eyes maybe closed as his head is pressed against the make-shift pillow of his sweat-shirt, but his mind is in a state of overdrive, as he allows Riley to navigate their road route. 

‘What the hell?’ are the first thoughts stuck on an annoyingly state of repeat. He knows it’s completely unproductive but he seems to be rooted in that place of astonishment, disbelief and general confusion. ‘What the hell just happened?’ ‘when the hell did this start?” ‘what the hell are his mind and body getting at?’ and really ‘what is he going to do about it?’ 

What happened? What happened was he almost jumped his best friends’ bones. He was, no IS, suddenly very very attracted to Riley Davis. He wanted her, no WANTS her, still, just like she is now simply sitting next to him driving down the interstate. 

It’s not like he hasn’t noticed that Riley is attractive in their years together. Well, noting that she is gorgeous is really a more accurate representation. He has been obliged to notice her physical attractiveness on occasion, submitting to giving her a complete and enthusiastic once over with his eyes. That might have occurred the first time they met, and successively since that time. But those had always been momentary or stolen glances, a fleeting appreciation or acknowledgment. Not the resounding and unyielding desire he seems to be presently experiencing. 

It wasn’t solely her physical beauty that seemed to be contributing to the allure. It was that Riley was secure and self-assured within her skin, her body and her mind. He knows enough about the science of physical attraction, it isn’t solely about a face or body in a static state, it’s how that individual uses what she has. It’s movements, gestures, emotional expressiveness, words and tone that all contribute as well.

Her last-ish words roll around again “Sit your fine ass back down Angus”. 

She has always referred to him by nickname, Mac, just like the many others in his life. It’s always comforting and pleasant. Macgyver and/or Angus Macgyver she had utilized when she is trying to prove a point or force him into a preferred state of action or direction. 

But just ‘Angus’, Holy fuck, hearing HER refer to him solely by his first name… that had done shit to him.

It was fully and entirely intimate. 

He understands intimacy, that innate desire to be seen as who are, which steers an emotional attachment. It’s when your inner most thoughts, smart or stupid are bare before another person, and it is accepted and understood. He also gets that it’s hard not to have emotional intimacy without developing physical intimacy, sexual attraction or chemistry. It starts with holding hands, crying on each other’s shoulder or hugs all in an effort to show comfort to that all important friend. The subtle touching and gestures make a person feel cherished, nurtured, and protected, exciting those pleasurable hormones in the brain. Why some relationships progress to romance and others don’t is still a mystery according to science. Some research indicates its determinant upon availability, both individuals finally being single or emotional available. Others theorize it is a significant event or instance which moves the relationship forward. Either way it dependent upon reciprocation of feelings, wants and desires and the willingness to risk the relationship for an undetermined reward. 

He acknowledges that his relationship with Riles is the essence of intimacy as of late. He thinks maybe it started on the mission in Germany, lugging a World War bomb up a staircase while finally sharing their beliefs about maintaining a relationship in their profession. Then clinging to one another like life preserves, as they narrowly miss getting squished by the tumbling bomb. Him speaking to her honestly about his fears of being alone when his stupidity catches up with him and it all ends. A fear he hadn’t not expressed to anyone else the entirety of the world. Then immediately having to gamble his life and her by egg dropping the same bomb 6 stories to the ground to result in an elated embrace and verbal promises that neither of them were ever alone. All of that screamed intimacy to Mac, at the decibel and clarity of the sonic boom of a jet breaking the sound barrier. 

It seemed to snowball in his recollection from those moments, everything between the simple stuff of living in the same space, like seeing their shoes next together at the front door, to his proclamation to his aunt and Codex that ‘We are a package deal.’

So, their divulging, confiding, confessing, appreciation, allegiance, admiration, respect and understanding, everything that has been in rock in the past year, are contributing factors. Quite simply the adoration and awe he always felt towards Riley seems now to be intertwined with a unrelenting attraction, and desire.   
Now, what the heck does he do about it? He has no fricken clue. He had never really considered more with Riley. Nope that’s not entirely true. He had once jokingly commented to Jack that Riley was likely to be the most stable relationship he would experience. In that short-lived moment there had been a flash across his overactive brain of what could be, but he had immediately dismissed it. But what exactly would MORE encompass? It is just scratching the itch or investing fully into another relationship? What does he want? His head begins to feel heavy at the weight of all the questions and very few answers. 

Is it even a consideration she would make? What does she want? She had earlier torn away from their heated moment on four wheels and literally leaving him in a pile of sand and dust. And now it appeared that they were both presently choosing a resounding silence. 

They need to talk, to talk about this. They could talk about anything. Yet another promise she had made and maintained years ago. He just needed to gently remind her, the foundations of their current relationship, so they could talk this out, figure it out together just like they do with everything else. 

XXX

“Reservation for Riley Davis,” Riles says as they approach the desk of Great Venture Tours. 

“Yes for sure” the young girl behind the counter says with a lot of pep. Her eyes excitedly darting between the him, Riley and the computer screen. “Got it right here, the sunset south point tour complete with romantic dinner for two”. 

Riles’ jaw immediately drops to open. She stammers, “I didn’t… there is a mistake…” It would be completely adorable, the way she is tripping over her words, not at all like Riles, except for the hint of terror in her eyes. 

The clerk disagrees with gusto, “Nope got all your details here, it was booked this morning, reservation for Riley Davis and +1, tour departing at 4pm to the south ridge, dreamy sunset walk followed by intimate dinner.”

“I did not book that” Riley says a little firmer than likely required. “I did book the group tour across the ridge starting at 4pm.”

The clerk now frowns, “I’m sorry…” she starts trailing off as she clicks at the computer with her mouse. “I would offer to move you but the group tour is at our maximum capacity. Do you want to cancel or rebook for tomorrow?”

Mac finds himself jumping in, it’s a risky approach about he hopes it might be an opportunity to break the ice on the uncomfortable tension that has been present between them. She keeps saying no improvisation but honestly, it’s his thing, he is at a loss for any other approach at this time. 

He slides an arm around Riley’s waist, tugging her to his side. She initially stiffens like he has branded her, so he trails his fingers up and down her hip. He immediately notices how the curve is like honey, thick, sweet and perfect. He catches her gaze, which is of course, is solely confusion as he continues with his plan. 

“Come on babe” he says trying to oz charm “a romantic evening with your man. We haven’t had one of those since our honeymoon, the cabin in Yellowknife?”

She blinks repeatedly, then a slow smile eases across her face. She gets it, she had months ago in Italy commented that playing a newlywed with him was ‘fun’. They had enjoyed the chatter and banter of pretending and discussing their make-believe and preferred honeymoon destination. It was a role, uncomplicated, accustomed and familiar to be executing together. 

She relaxes into his embrace turning partially so they are fitted closer together. She is soft in all the right places against his body. He reminds himself that he started this little game rouse as she lifts her hand trailing fingers down his jawline, it sears a path of heat where she has touched.

She responds “But will it be as romantic without the magnetic disturbance, solar wind and smores?”

He wants to moan, yet again. Fire being ignited from that low burn to an all out blaze. Northern lights, why couldn’t she just have simply said, Northern Lights?

The young girl at the counter practically squeals with delight. “O.M.G. you two really are the perfect couple, you are going to love this tour!” 

Mac can feel himself grinning like a goof. Maybe the overly preppy girl behind the counter is right. Could be the perfect couple? Maybe it is truly something for consideration. 

XXX

The tour guide follows a scenic route from Flagstaff via State Route 89A. They pass tall pines which seem to be painted in harsh brush strokes against to backdrop of the San Francisco Peaks, a mighty volcanic mountain range. 

There first stop is at the Cameron Trading Post. The sandwich board sign comments on its establishment in 1916. Mac eyes the doorway of the shop, noting a large amount of Southwest American Indian arts and crafts but he doesn’t enter. Normally he would enjoy the vast colors and speculation on the history between each piece, but his head is still working out how to approach the conversation that needs to occur. He does enter the convince store to purchase a couple bottles of water, he smirks slightly devilish as he grabs an additional item for purchase next to the cashier. 

The viewing area is the on the south point of the Grand Canyon National Park. Mac follows Riley away from the tour bus to claim a fallen log a good distance from anyone else. 

It is clear enough that they can see all the way to the North Rim, the deep and jagged chasm carved like a trowel dragged through the dirt. The walls are like painted horizontal lines each shade perfectly separated like a paint by number landscape. The setting sun, the play of light and shadow, exponentially amplifies the sheer multitude of colors. It is likely that many of those created are not yet named on the color wheel. The golden globe has dipped low enough in the west that it seems to be swallowed by the canyon walls. Overall its magnificent. 

“Damm it is beautiful” Riley lets out finally breaking his thoughts.

He hummms with similar awareness. Mac can’t disagree, as much as he plays with man-made machines, he has an appreciative place in his mind for what mother earth seems to create.

“And I could see the romantic qualities of it” he offers.

It now seems to be her turn to humm in approval. 

“In the spirit of romance” he pulls his impulse purchase from the concession and holds it out to her. In his palm rests a “3 Musketeers” candy bar. A delicious combination of chocolate and marshmallow, to be representative of her campfire favorite. “It’s the best I could do,” he says with a small chuckle.

She laughs, that Riley laugh that he treasures. She grabs the bar immediately tearing of the package, breaking it in half to share. “It’s perfect” she says. They eat, the quiet creepy inwards again. He can barely stand it, and finds himself asking aloud. “Is it that weird for you that we are doing this tour together?”

She seems to sit a little straighter on the log. She doesn’t respond. Well he started this scary conversation, might as well continue. Anything is better that the silence.

He clears his throat, “I was just considering that for all our years working together, and as best friends we never really considered…” He trails off, not quite sure how to word what he actually is proposing. A hook up? Sex? Date? An attempt at an actual romantic relationship? … “hummm being more than friends?” It comes off as a question because it is one, but also because he is entirely unsure about his word choice. 

She seems to get the general ballpark he is hitting towards but also seems to be calling it a foul, “Mac, you don’t need this right now?”

He feels his own features crumple in to a frown. Fuck maybe she is right, she has always seemed in tune with his needs. He just commented on this observation days ago. This whole damm vacation was her idea to meet a need that he had buried deep beneath all his responsibility. But this felt different. This is different. Its not some unidentifiable need…

He mumbles aloud his next thought “but what if it’s what I want?”

She turns her body to fully face him, he mirrors her actions unconsciously. 

She stares at him like she is studying a circuit board, trying to map out the path of the current in with her eyes. The path must not be identifiable because finally, it’s like she has given up and asks, “What is it that you want?” with a hitch in her voice. Her eyes are earnest, open like his response holds the answer to the scientific question referring to the meaning of life. 

He wants to be truthful, Riley deserves nothing less.

He reaches up with a surprisingly shaky hand to cup her face, tracing her exquisite cheek bone with his calloused thumb. She seems to tilt her head into the embrace, and his palm immediately begins to prickle at the increased contact. Her full lips part with a mulling sigh which pleasurably tangles his insides into a mess of wet spaghetti. His own breath becomes trapped in his chest like being held by a vault when he locks to her eyes. Her hazel globes are refactoring the orchard and crimson of the setting sun. He feels this sudden urge to map every fleck and streak just like an astrologer would the stars. 

He hears his voice as barely a whisper between them, “Honestly, Riles I don’t fully know the answer to that past right this minute. But I am positive that kissing you right now is my only want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill the writer. I know you have been waiting patiently, its coming in the next chapter, the long awaited kiss, promise!


	7. “ Kissing you is my only Want”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks. Sorry you had to wait soooooo very long for this update. I really struggled with what Mac and Riley first kiss was to be like in this particular story. I kept debating and changing the description between slow, sweet and tender and hot, sexy and passionate. I’m not really sure, even as I post it, if I got it right, maybe it will be edited later, but here you are. Definitely need feed back on this one, so go ahead and give it to me! Thanks!

Mac whispers to her in the setting sun, “Honestly, Riles I don’t fully know the answer to that past right this minute. But I am positive that kissing you right now is my only want.”

‘Kissing you right now is my only want’ repeats in Riley’s head like a skipping record, followed in chorus with her own mind screaming, ‘Yes please!’ God damm, I want that too’. She has longed to hear him utter those words for months, and now they are simply there, hanging in the air between their bodies. The ache she has been nursing in this regard, gets a fresh jolt at his omission. It causes the butterflies that had formulated in her stomach when he had first cupped her face to crash into each other in a feathery mess.

But this is unwise, completely stupid, Right? Regardless of how long she has been yearning for this, for him, he just broke up with his girlfriend, only days ago. He can’t fully be over that. This has to be the most horrible timing in the history of recorded horrible timings. Yes, she wants it, badly, ‘its not all about you Riley.’ Isn’t allowing this selfish or self-serving? Especially in the wake of everything Mac has experienced, not just a second break up with Desi but the ordeal, grief, loss of the past months. 

His light blue eyes have yet to leave her face, they are not confident per say, but they are earnest, an exact match to his words. Maybe his lack of confidence is simply a wariness of her response. Or a worry of rejection. That he is uncertain that she wants this too. Maybe she did a far better job of hiding her feelings that she believed. That he was truly oblivious to her prolonged stares, the lingering embraces and enamored comments. 

He continues stroking her cheek bone, gentle but deliberate, creating a delightful friction across her skin. She becomes helpless not to press further into that touch. She tells herself, reminds herself that its only for a moment. She will take this small amount from him, this touch that he has offered, then she will step back, she will step away… she will bury it deep again and be the friend he needs. 

But when the warm pad of his thumb skims her bottom lip, her good, noble and selfless intentions scatter like dry leaves brushed across the street in a fierce fall wind. 

He continues to stroke her bottom lip with commitment. It’s unhurried, like he is attempting to coax a favorable response to his want from mouth. She has no ability to formulate actual vocabulary or words, but she feels her lips part slightly with an unsaid expectancy and a real hope.

Her eye lids suddenly feel heavier than 24 hours of missed sleep. As they lap close like waves on a beach, the last things she visually notes are Mac’s eyes intent upon her lips, the tilt of his head and its slow decent towards her. 

She feels his breath first, temperate and humid, against her own mouth. Her own lips tingle at the faint stimulation. She can sense him pause, hear his deep and purposeful inhale of the air that was moments ago maintaining the life and function of her body. It’s completely intimate and edges Riley into some thoughts and feelings of completion which she is not yet going to consider. 

He then exhales with a sigh, her name like a plea or a prayer, “Riles…” just before his lips finally touch hers.

His mouth is hot, smooth and firm. Even though his approach had been agonizingly slow or maybe even cautious, once their lips connected his execution is solid and powerful. It’s not a chaste meeting of mouths, it immediately becomes a lengthen caress. Mac is a really a kissing genius! The seamless implementation, exact level of pressure and a flawless combination of brushing, nibbling, tugging and docking of her lips. She feels a shiver course from those battling butterflies out to her chest, limps, finger and toes. He is thorough, not that she would have expected anything less from his methodical brain, but he seems intent to map every crease and nerve ending of her lips from corner to corner. She won’t complain it is scorchingly perfect. 

She had been so focused on the onslaught of his mouth, she was initially unaware the Mac had eased their entire bodies into one another. At least, she thinks its his doing maybe it was her, regardless she registers that they are now toe to toe, pelvis to pelvis, and chest to chest. She notes his heat at every inch of connection against the cooling desert at her back. His hand that had been toying with her lip his relocated to the curls in her hair, alternating between reflexively kneading the back of her head and tracing individual strands between his finger-tips. His other hand has a very firm and twisted hold on the fabric of her shirt a the small of her back, keeping her place, maybe even holding her upright, she can’t really tell. She seems to also have tethered herself to his body, a similar strangled grip by both hand at the shirt at his sides. 

She parts her mouth slightly more for a moan to exit her body, and Mac immediately dives inwards with his tongue. He is almost rhythmical, moving it expertly, like he is playing along with a song floating around his head. All the perceived intent and control Mac seems to be exhibiting is hot and sexy, but also slightly frustrating as with every nip, lick and suck she feels she personally is becoming a tad more undone and unraveled. 

That desire, that need, that frustration is likely the causes her to sink her teeth into his bottom lip. Mac pulls back abruptly, so quickly she is certain that she has miss-stepped or perhaps caused him actual physical pain but when her eyes lock on his face she realizes she hasn’t done anything wrong, but something very, very right.

She watches in amazement as the blue of his eyes darkens before her, his pupils blowing wide so she can’t distinguish the colors of the two. His nostrils flare as he seems to be attempting to suck in breathes at an increasing rate. His tongue sneaks out from his glorious lips to feel at the now plumped area she had just hungrily consumed.

The smirk that she feels form across her face is a mix of astonishment and unbridled pride. She is not the only one that is becoming rapidly unglued by their make-out session. Under all that deliberate intent Mac is responsive, to her, and she wants that, craves that. ‘More!’ her inner voices chant. 

Boldness and sheer feminine power let her find her voice to comment on his undoing aloud. “You liked that Angus,” she says sultry and with confidence. 

She sees a flash of heat across his features like water being thrown on hot oil as he crushes his mouth back into hers. ‘HOLY SHIT,’ She quickly files that her usage his first name seems to also be something he very much enjoys but doesn’t get to relish that for more than a few seconds. As Mac is now moving at the pace and power of a runaway semi.

His mouth is feverish, passionate and wet upon hers, and her jaw, and her neck, and back to her mouth. Each kiss feels like a heated brand upon that patch of skin. He is claiming every inch of her, and she is letting him. She responds burring both hands deep in his glorious golden hair, carding it, tugging it, plundering it as hers. His hands seem equally unrestrained, roughly stroking her shoulder blades, her back, her ass. She feels a heady groan vibrate deep from his chest against her squished breasts when he palms and clasps her ass. Mac is also apparently an ass man. When he gives it a hearty squeeze, she instinctively jumps to straddle his hips, bringing their bodies closer. There is still so much clothing between them but she clearly feels the growing strain formulating against the zipper of his cargo pants. She hikes herself slightly higher around his waist, connecting her core to that wonderful growing budge. She is certain that if her eyes were open, Mac would witness them roll back in her head. The movement causes fissures of pleasure like electric current to every place in her body, from her heating core, to her breasts, down her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and arching out of every single little hair on her body. ‘Good god’, that was just from a quick grind against him, she might actually back out if this continues its current trajectory. 

Mac doesn’t seem to have any plans for braking, as he moves her wedge her between a tree trunk and his hard heated body. The bark of the trunk is damp and bumpy but she loves it, she is here for it, every second, every sensation, every ounce of unbridled thirst he is currently hurling into this moment. 

Not that she didn’t love his thorough and detailed approach before as there is something to be said for the slow stoking of a fire, but this… This surprising detonation, this Mac, who isn’t necessary controlled, problem solving or improvising, rather just being and responding. She needs, wants, yearns for more of him as well. 

Just as she thinks they are about to begin shedding articles of clothing, when she faintly registers the urgent alarm of her cell phone which had been left on the tree bench overlooking the canyon. 

She breaks her lips from his mouth, a wet pop echoes through the dusk. And “Oh Shit, not now” drops aloud and with the tiniest amount of fear. 

Mac’s face is mixture of regal bliss, disappointment, that they are not continuing and shock at her words but he recovers quickly and responds with “Well, that is NOT what I wanted to hear…”

“Quick, put me down” she says tapping at his shoulder for the desired response. 

“Riles, you are seriously deflating my ego, as in relative to the downing of the Hindenburg” he jokes. 

She would normally laugh at his historical reference but can’t right now. “Mac… now… down” she says a little more insistently. This time he responds, a frown and concern across his features as he steps backwards and lowers her gracefully to her feet. She scrambles away from him towards her phone. Its lit up in red as the program she had created, the one that screams at her of their impending doom.

“Riley?” Mac asks, still with confusion as he joins at her side.

“We’ve got to go” she says aloud, “Or this vacation is going to come to a swift and tragic end.”


End file.
